


Love like latte

by bittenbullet



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Coffee, Coffee Shops, Cooking, Cussing, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Sarcasm, Sassy Merlin, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Snark, Swearing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenbullet/pseuds/bittenbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a lawyer. Eggsy is a barista who <em>loathes</em> lawyers. (Coffee shop AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Extra hot, extra dirty

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone loves coffee.

“Hello Harry,” Merlin said. 

Harry did not say a word. Even though Merlin couldn’t see him over the phone, he was sure Merlin got the intent loud and clear. 

“I’m sensing a hint of resentment in the air,” Merlin said, after a moment of stony silence. “Just a pinch, nothing major, but resentment all the same.”

“I apologize, the resentment should be completely obvious,” Harry said pleasantly. “Hello to you too, Merlin. What can I do for you?”

“Happy birthday,” Merlin said. “Any plans for the day?”

“Big ones.” Harry flipped through the file on his desk. “There is a mediation scheduled in the late afternoon, and I have to read up on the financial disclosure dossier for a new client to gauge her soon-to-be ex-husband’s assets-”

“But it’s your birthday,” Merlin said, cutting Harry off. “Last year all you did on your birthday was to call in sick and curl up under my couch like a giant foetus, crying manly tears of deep despair while I handed you tissues. You need to do something to actually celebrate this time.”

Harry took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. 

“Merlin, I’m a fifty-four year old family divorce lawyer. My own wife divorced me. I found out she had been cheating on me two years ago on this very day. She kicked me out of my house, moved her lover in, I’m still paying through the nose for the alimony, and she got my fucking dog,” Harry snarled. “The least thing I want to do is to celebrate.”

As usual, Merlin let Harry’s words fly over his head. “I’ll come over tonight. We can watch whatever shitty movie is on the telly and order pepperoni pizza and toast to Mr. Pickles. Look, I’ll even bring a six pack of birthday Guinness to sweeten the deal.”

“Goodbye, Merlin,” Harry said, and hung up. 

Five minutes later, Harry’s phone emitted a loud, attention-seeking beep. Harry ignored it. He didn’t need to open his textbox to know that Merlin had already penciled himself in for the night. Harry smiled a little despite himself. Merlin was a good friend, a far better one than Harry deserved. Spending his birthday with his best friend actually sounded fantastic, not that he would ever admit it to Merlin’s face.

Harry took a sip of stone-cold coffee, suppressing a full-body shudder from the stale taste as he skimmed through the disclosure documents with an expert eye. There was so much to cover: the man’s estates, his offshore account, his hidden stocks and bonds. The guy even had a fucking yacht. Harry was going to take vindictive pleasure in stripping down the cheater’s assets for his client. He reminded Harry of his ex-wife. 

Harry pored over the documents, reading page after page until the lines blurred together into a cobweb of nonsensical words. Leaning back in his chair, Harry scrubbed his knuckles over bone-dry eyes. Fuck, he really needed more coffee. Harry pushed himself away from the desk, picked up his coffee mug, and headed for the pantry. 

He was immediately gripped by the most bizarre sight: young Tristan was standing in front of the Nespresso Zenius, banging the machine on the side as if it would spit up coffee if he hit it hard enough. He was surrounded by half a dozen disgruntled, well-dressed men and women with purple rings under bloodshot eyes, all holding out their empty cups à la Oliver Twist. They looked like an army of zombie lawyers.

“What happened?” Harry asked in deep trepidation, even though the answer was glaringly obvious.

“The coffee machine is broken,” Tristan said glumly, and the room let out a collective groan. Harry turned on his heel and hurried out of the pantry before a riot could break out.

Safe within the confines of his office, Harry considered his options. 

Harry could buy another coffee machine, but it would take hours to deliver, he wasn’t so keen on sharing, and the company might not reimburse him. 

It was entirely possible Harry could survive the day without coffee; cutting off both his thumbs with a blunt butter knife sounded far less painful. 

Or Harry could nip down the street and go to that tiny, hole-in-the-wall coffee shop he passed by every day on his way to work, but had never once stepped foot in. It could be great. It could also be hideous. 

Harry eyed the endless stacks of documents on his desk and bit back a grimace.

Option three it was.

++++++++

When the doors to the coffee shop swung open, Harry realized the shop was bigger than he had expected, with about a dozen tables and soft, jazzy music playing over the sound system. 

There was a thin, pretty girl standing behind the counter. She looked to be in her late twenties, dressed in a crisp white blouse and modest black shorts that covered the top of her thighs. She was wiping down the countertop, long walnut-colored hair swept back in a high ponytail. When she looked up, her smile was wide and warm. 

“Hi,” she said, brandishing the blue rag in her hand. “Sorry, doing some damage control on spilt coffee here. Give me a minute?”

“Okay,” Harry said, his eyes tracking her back, the shiny ponytail swinging like a pendulum as she disappeared into the back room. Business was slow at the time of the day, Harry noticed. He raked his eyes over the place absently and caught a movement in his peripheral vision.

A man was standing at the far corner of the coffee counter with his back to Harry, stacking jars of coffee beans on a high shelf. Unlike the impeccably dressed girl, he was wearing the ugliest bomber jacket Harry had ever had the misfortune to clap his eyes on. It was black and yellow, the kind of bright, migraine-inducing yellow that burned into retinas and left merry swirls dancing in its wake. If Harry ever got his hands on it, he would light a match and set it on fire. He would be doing the world a massive favor. 

The man was so immersed in tidying he never threw Harry a look. Harry glanced at his wristwatch. He really needed to get back to work if he was going to do movie night with Merlin. So he cleared his throat and said to the black-and-yellow-clad back, “Hello, can I have a hazelnut latte please.”

Jerking to attention, the man whirled around, and Harry saw he was younger than Harry had initially thought. He had feathery brown hair and eyes the color of beer bottles, and a wide, mobile mouth. He took one look at Harry and did a double-take; Harry felt rather alarmed in return. 

“Holy shit,” the kid blurted out. “You’re _old._ ”

“And you’re a very rude child,” Harry replied, because he had not had his second coffee shot, and caffeine withdrawal did not encourage excellent manners.

The kid flashed a rueful grin. “I guess I walked right into that one,” he admitted, leaning on the counter and throwing out his hand, palm up. “Alright. Let’s do this again. Sup, I’m Eggsy.”

Harry eyed the proffered hand with deep suspicion, half-expecting the kid to pull back his hand at the last second and laugh his head off. When he didn’t, Harry shook it gingerly. His handshake was firm and dry and warm. 

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s just, most people who order hazelnut lattes are hipsters. College students, y’know, with black framed glasses and long emo hair and ULC hoodies,” Eggsy explained, his mouth quirking up in the corners. “And you have this uber posh, cultured voice. People with voices like yours tend to ask for chai. Extra hot, extra dirty.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry said, his eyes darting down to Eggsy’s lips involuntarily. He was almost certain he had not hallucinated the words _hot_ and _dirty_ coming out of Eggsy’s mouth. 

“Chai,” Eggsy repeated, like Harry was hard of hearing. “You never had a chai latte before?”

“No,” Harry said hastily. Fortunately Eggsy didn’t seem to notice Harry had misinterpreted a completely innocent statement as a raging come-on. 

Eggsy’s grin turned sharp as a hook. “That won’t do. Sit tight, bruv. I’ll make you one.” 

“I just want my hazelnut latte,” Harry said plaintively. 

“It’s just like latte,” Eggsy promised, playfully drawing an X over his chest with an index finger. “Cross my heart.”

Five minutes later, Harry found himself standing outside the coffee shop, tipping back his head to blink at the clear blue sky, not entirely sure what the hell had just happened. Eggsy had blatantly ignored his order, steamrolled him into the chai latte, insisted it was on the house as a sincere apology for being ageist, and shoved him out the door with both hands. 

Dazedly, Harry made his way back to the office. It was only when he stepped into the lift did he remember he had not tried his piping hot chai latte. He pulled open the tab and took a small, careful sip.

“Fuck,” Harry said, stunned. It was the most amazing thing he had ever tasted. He took another savoring sip as he walked past the pantry, ignoring the loud, angry chatter inside, and headed for his room, smiling to himself. 

One thing was certain. He was most definitely going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other day, while I was waiting for my latte, someone turned my head by placing an order of chai latte with "extra hot, extra dirty, extra foam". So yeah. That happened. 
> 
> Talk to me :3


	2. For the love of pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Whew! *wipes forehead* Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos! It’s the best driving fuel when one feels like pressing the Delete button and sending the entire draft off into the great big oblivion. You guys rock.
> 
> ps. Didn't have time to send this to Grass to get beta'd so any mistake here is entirely my own.

When Harry finally managed to drag his sorry carcass up the lift and unlocked the door to his studio apartment, he found Merlin lounging on his couch, firing off instructions into the phone like a drill sergeant. 

Merlin took one look at Harry’s face and blinked, dark eyebrows climbing their way up his nonexistent hairline. He hung up with a crisp ‘later’, tucked the phone into his pocket, and canted his head to the side.

“Happy birthday,” Merlin said. There was a faint uptick in the last syllable, as if he had meant to phase it as a question.

“Thanks,” Harry said, yanking off his tie. True to his word, Merlin had brought him birthday beer: there was a six pack smack dab in the middle of his dining table, dripping beautiful condensation all over the mahogany surface.

“You look surprisingly… not unhappy,” Merlin observed.

“I had a really good coffee today,” Harry said casually. He shrugged off his coat and draped it carefully over the back of a chair, snagging a Guinness off the table as he went.

“Hazelnut latte?” Merlin said dryly.

“Chai latte,” Harry said, dropping on the couch beside Merlin and taking a pull of cold beer. When he opened his eyes, Merlin was staring at him like he had sprouted horns and a curly beard.

“You had something that was _not_ hazelnut,” Merlin said slowly.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’ve had the same coffee every single day for the last decade,” Merlin said, sounding suspicious. Then his expression cleared in dawning comprehension. “Did someone _buy_ you a chai latte? Was it a date?”

“No,” Harry said. “The barista blatantly ignored my coffee order and gave me something else. It was free. I had to take it.”

“And you took it lying down?” Merlin said in disbelief. “You, Harry Hart, the bull that keeps running headfirst into walls until the walls cave in?”

“The barista was very persuasive,” Harry said, thinking of long, slim fingers dancing over the coffee machine buttons and distractingly red lips.

Merlin stared. “Christ. You like her. Him. Whatever, I don’t judge.”

“ _No_.”

Merlin raised a sardonic eyebrow that called bull.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said mulishly.

“Neither do I. Feelings give me hives.” Merlin knocked Harry’s shoulder with his. “But if you do want to talk, I’ll be here.”

Harry smiled down at his beer. “I know.”

With practiced familiarity, they loaded their plates full of leafy greens. Then they ate cold pizza and drank colder beer and watched _Jurassic Park_ in companionable silence for an hour and half. When the credits began to roll, Merlin stood up and cracked his spine, and started to collect the cutlery for washing. 

“Do you have any dessert?” Merlin called over his shoulder as he plunged both hands into the sink. The suds went up to his elbows.

“I always do.” Harry stuck his head in the refrigerator and swore. “Shit. I'm out.”

“I was hoping for pie." Merlin sounded sad. Aside from similar hobbies and interests, Harry and Merlin also shared a sweet tooth.

“I can run down to Tesco and get one,” Harry said, waving off Merlin’s protests. “It’s only two blocks away.”

“Do you have enough cash on you?”

“Yes,” Harry said, pocketing five twenties. “If I need more, I’ll sell a kidney.”

“Ah,” Merlin said sagely. “That explains why God gave us two kidneys.”

Harry snorted and shrugged on his trench. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I’ll wait with bated breath,” Merlin said, and watched him go before returning to dish duty.

* 

One of the reasons for which Harry chose his current address was the convenience of having a supermarket, a book shop, and the tube station all within reasonable walking distance. Ten minutes later, Harry found himself examining the dessert counter at Tesco’s. The god of birthdays must be smiling down upon him, because there was one perfect pecan pie left, easily missed behind an assortment of blueberry and lemon muffins. Harry rescued it from its hiding place, enjoying the firm, solid weight in his hands for a moment. As he headed for the checkout, a streak of yellow and black caught his eye.

 _No._

It couldn’t be. 

But it was impossible to mistake that yellow jacket of doom. 

Eggsy the barista was pushing a cart loaded with Red Bull and instant ramen, sandy head cocked to the side to examine a can of chicken soup in his hand. There was a little blond girl pulling at his shirt, shadowing his every step like a tiny, curly-haired puppy. She said something that made Eggsy throw back his head and laugh, long and loud. Harry felt his heart drop to his toes as Eggsy twisted down to drop a kiss on top of her head, threading his fingers through loose blond curls. They shared the same bottle-green eyes and thin red lips. Anyone could see they were related by blood. 

They were also making a beeline towards Harry. Belatedly, Harry realized they were only a few feet away.

Shit.

Harry was about to duck behind a mighty fortress built entirely of kitchen rolls when Eggsy looked up. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Hey,” Eggsy said, his mouth curling in the corners. “You’re that bloke with that voice who likes hipster drinks!”

“Hello,” Harry said in resignation as his window of escape slammed shut. 

“So.” Eggsy gave him a sly grin. “Did you like my chai?”

“It was excellent,” Harry answered, his innate sense of honesty reasserting itself. “You are very skilled.”

Eggsy’s grin widened and softened at the same time, and Harry felt a kick in his chest.

“Swing by tomorrow. I’ll make you something else.”

Harry hesitated. For some unfathomable reason, he felt that saying yes would be opening doors to more than just coffee.

The small blond child released her grip on Eggsy’s shirt, took two steps towards Harry. She thought better of it and turned back to hide her face in Eggsy’s jacket, burying her tiny fists in his shirt. Harry thought she was maybe six or seven years old. 

“This is Daisy,” Eggsy said, sounding equal parts exasperated and fond. “Sorry mate, she’s a wee bit shy.”

"Hello, Daisy," Harry said.

Daisy shifted her face in the hideous yellow fabric and peered up at Harry a large, green eye. "Hi."

“Is she your daughter?” Harry asked Eggsy. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“What?” Eggsy nearly dropped the can on his foot. Then he burst into surprised laughter. “No! Daisy’s my baby sister.”

He probably wasn’t married, then. Harry felt strangely relieved. For the lack of something better to say, he slid a sidelong glance at Eggsy’s cart, his eyes roving over the horrifying mountain of junk food. “I have no idea how you survive on that shit,” Harry said.

“Magic metabolism,” Eggsy said cheerfully, lifting his shirt and patting himself on the stomach to make his point. Harry’s mouth went dry. Eggsy let the shirt fall back in place, and Harry dragged his eyes back to Eggsy’s face. Eggsy kept smiling at him, completely oblivious. 

Just when it looked like things were about to get awkward, little Daisy yawned widely, recapturing Eggsy’s attention. As Eggsy fussed over her, she threw a glance at Harry. There was a sharp, thoughtful look in her eyes that made Harry think the yawn was entirely deliberate. 

“Shite, it's late and I gotta go," Eggsy said. "Will I see you tomorrow?” 

Harry found himself nodding on auto-pilot, because his higher brain function was still scrambling to recover from the accidental striptease.

“Great. See ya!” With a smile and a wave, Eggsy took his little sister’s hand and led her away. Harry could see the pair of siblings whispering furiously at each other as they went. 

Remembering his pie, Harry shifted his sleeve and looked down at his watch just in time to see the hand strike twelve. 

It was an excellent birthday, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was actually part of a chapter, but the original was 3000+ words so I cut it in half. Other characters will make an appearance in the next chapter. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. Have a great weekend! :D


	3. Fancy a cuppa?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! *little finger wave* Sorry for the SUPER late update. Real life happened. A lot. Thanks for the lovely PMs and reminders. If no one read this, I would have let it lie. So... kudos to you, dear reader!

The following morning, Harry rolled out of bed when the alarm clock rang and nearly tripped over the Merlin burrito on the floor. He had forgotten he had a guest stay over for the night. 

There was a lot of outraged shouting and some quality kicking from Merlin in which _ow_ , the man kicked like an angry mule, but out of sheer habit, Harry managed to shower, shave, and get dressed within minutes. A glance at the wall clock showed Harry he had plenty of time to spare, so he rolled up his sleeves and started to make breakfast for two. 

Merlin wandered into the kitchen when Harry was cracking an egg over the frying pan. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes and a cobweb of pillow creases crawling over his left cheek. He looked like an extra out of an episode of The Walking Dead. 

“Good morning,” Harry said. 

Merlin ignored him in favor of shuffling towards the dining table, dragging each step as if his feet were bound together in chains. With a groan loud enough to wake the dead, Merlin hoisted himself on a bar stool and buried his head in his arms.

“If you puke on my mahogany table, I will be so pissed at you,” Harry told Merlin’s shiny head, waving the spatula warningly.

Merlin made a distressed sound, like a kitten crying all alone in an empty cave.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that,” Harry said, plating the perfectly cooked omelet.

“Just kill me,” Merlin said, his voice muffled in his sleeve. “It’ll be easier.”

“Nah.” Harry pushed a coffee in the direction of Merlin’s head. “You’re the only person I know who will help me hide a body.”

Merlin made a desperate grab at the cup and drained it in two long swallows. He looked down into his empty cup, heaved a mournful sigh at the dregs at the bottom, and chucked it in the sink. 

Properly caffeinated, Merlin finally spotted the omelet in all its shiny glory and pulled it closer to himself, his arms wrapped around his plate like a dragon hoarding its pile of gold. 

“Harry, darling, you’ll make a beautiful wife one day,” Merlin told Harry. 

“Not yours. You have cooties,” Harry said, and dodged the swat that came flying at his head. “Eat your breakfast. It’s eight thirty. That gives you less than an hour to get back to your office.”

Merlin took a huge bite of omelet and made rapturous noises as he ate.

Harry wasn’t one to brag, but after an exchange year in Paris and working several odd jobs in between classes, he turned out to be a pretty good cook. It was always nice to see people enjoy his food. 

Smiling, Harry took a sip of instant coffee and nearly spat it down his shirt. It tasted like ass. Mouth twisting in disgust, Harry poured the rest down the drain. He had a pretty good idea where to grab a decent cup before work.

*

“Posh voice bloke!” Eggsy exclaimed when Harry stepped foot in his coffee shop. He waved so energetically from behind the counter he looked like he was flailing from a miniature seizure.

Hesitantly, Harry removed his Burberry fedora and tucked it under the crook of his arm. 

“Hello,” Harry said cautiously, a little taken aback by Eggsy’s excessive show of enthusiasm, considering there were about a dozen people standing between the door and the till. 

In all honesty, after the brilliant cuppa he'd had yesterday, Harry couldn't say he was the least bit surprised at the giant turnout in the morning. 

Aside from Eggsy, two other baristas worked the counter. There was the friendly brunette from the day before, who flashed him a bright, sweet smile of recognition before turning back to her customers, and a gorgeous girl with glossy black hair and legs like a gazelle. They both appeared calm and neat and perfectly polished, while Eggsy looked like he had rolled around on the floor in espresso beans and then stuck his finger in an electric socket. His hair was kicking up in all directions, like a surprised dandelion. The horrific bomber jacket was gone, presumably stowed away somewhere safe, because it looked like Eggsy had wiped his hands repeatedly on his shirt; there were smudgy fingerprints and coffee stains all over the snowy fabric. 

Harry skimmed the long line and moved to duck out the door. He had one hand on the glass panel, poised to push, when he made the mistake of looking back; he felt his heart twist in his chest as the smile on Eggsy's face fell faster than a wall of bricks. Harry glanced down at his watch. He could spare fifteen minutes, tops. With a put-upon sigh, Harry shrugged off his trench coat, draped it carefully over his arm, and got in the back of the line. He resolutely told himself he did not notice the way Eggsy’s frown turned upside down in a wide grin when he stayed. Harry just needed his caffeine fix, that’s all.

The trio worked surprisingly well together. They were fast and efficient as a well-oiled machine, handing out one order after another in rapid succession. Five minutes later, Harry found himself face-to-face with a beaming Eggsy.

“You’re back,” Eggsy said, looking absurdly pleased. “I knew you couldn’t resist my chemical stimulants-inducing charms.”

“I am,” Harry said. He couldn’t help mirroring Eggsy's smile. It was nice when someone seemed genuinely happy to see you, like going home to your pet Golden Retriever after a long day at work. “I’d like a coffee to go, please.”

“You’re going to trust me on this, right? Let me stew my creative juices? Please? Pretty please? Pretty please with cherry on top?”

“If it’s on par with the chai latte, be my guest,” Harry said, amused by Eggsy’s rambling run of words and his ability to talk a mile a minute without stopping for breath.

Eggsy rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and gave an exaggerated victory fist pump. For a barista who stood behind a coffee counter all day, he had surprisingly strong-looking arms. It would have been a nice view if not for the dark-haired girl rolling her eyes in the background.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eggsy spun around and pumped three different types of syrup into a cup, then added milk and three shots of espresso into the mix. 

“Hey Roxy,” Eggsy called over his shoulder to the ponytail girl as he stirred the mixture. “Can you run the till until I’m done?”

“No can do. We’re out of soy, I need to get some more from the back room,” Roxy replied, looking harried. “Get Gazelle. She can hold down the fort.”

Gazelle's lips compressed into a thin red line as she pushed past Eggsy. Without a word, she plucked the ten pound note out of Harry’s hand and slapped the change back into his palm so hard Harry almost stumbled with it. Harry held back the urge to snap at her. He never did anything to deserve the overwhelming amount of hostility the girl was doling out. What the hell was her problem?

“Here you go,” Eggsy said, startling Harry out of his thoughts. He had gotten out from behind the counter and was holding out a paper cup. Blinking, Harry took the proffered cup with both hands. Eggsy was giving him an expectant look, so under Eggsy's watchful eye he took an experimental sip and released an involuntary sound of pleasure. 

“This is bloody amazing,” Harry told Eggsy. “Did you add almond syrup in the mix this time?”

Eggsy’s smirk turned sharp. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“It’s a secret worth dying for, master spy,” Harry quipped, his eyes tracking the long, graceful line of Eggsy’s throat as he threw back his head and laughed.

“You’re funnier then you look,” Eggsy said.

“And you look better when you’re actually working,” Roxy said frostily, who had returned with the soy milk. “Get your perky ass back to where you belong, Unwin!” 

“Loo break,” Eggsy shot back, ignoring the basilisk stares both girls threw in his way. Without waiting for a reply, Eggsy placed his hand on the small of Harry’s back, light and swift as a dove, and gently steered him out of the shop.

Too stunned to react, Harry let him.

The door closed behind them with a soft, audible click. Eggsy removed his hand from Harry's back and turned up his face to give him a lopsided grin.

“So guess what, I don't actually need to use the loo. Correct me if I'm wrong: you work somewhere nearby, right? Can I walk you back to your office? I really need to stretch my legs, and you look like you can use the company.”

“Er,” Harry said. “Why not.”

“Brilliant,” Eggsy said, scuffing his Jeremy Scott Adidas 2.0 wing sneaker against the pavement. “Lead the way.”

They walked in companionable silence for a full minute before Harry realized he should probably try to make polite conversation. He wracked his brain for something innocuous to say.

To his surprise, Eggsy beat him to the punch.

“You never did tell me your name,” Eggsy said casually.

“You never asked,” Harry pointed out.

“Snarky,” Eggsy said in mock disapproval, but he was grinning when he said it.

“Close enough. It’s Harry,” Harry said.

“Hello Harry,” Eggsy said, and smiled down at his ridiculous sneakers. 

There was a beat of silence. Neither of them really knew what else to say.

“How long have you been working here?” Harry asked heroically, before the moment got long enough to be awkward. He tried to inject just the right degree of warmth in his voice to indicate mild professional interest, and not like a complete creeper a step away from a restraining order.

“Two years.” Eggsy laughed darkly under his breath. It sounded almost angry, as if it was a bitter pill to swallow. “I joined the marines for a brief stint when I was twenty-two, but me mom had a weak heart and agonized over my safety every minute I was gone. Da got killed in the line of duty when I was a kid, you see. I couldn't do that to her; I was all she had. So I quit.” He paused. “That was before she had Daisy, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said inadequately. Things got heavy so fast it was a little hard to take in stride.

“It all worked out in the end,” Eggsy said, tilting his head to the side and breaking into a sunny smile. The abrupt change in his mood was giving Harry emotional whiplash. 

Luckily, they had arrived at their destination. 

“Well, this is my stop,” Harry said, gesturing the large glass doors glinting in the sun. “Thanks for walking me back.”

Eggsy tipped his head back and goggled.

“You work in the Kingsman building?” Eggsy asked, looking gob-smacked. His eyes were wide and round as saucers.

Harry tried not to preen a little. Most people would be impressed. After all, the Kingsman was one of the newest and most expensive buildings in Mayfair.

“Yes,” Harry said. “I work here.”

“Doesn’t it have that hotshot law firm on the 12th floor?” Eggsy said slowly. “Savile & Porter?”

Harry started to say that why, he was one of the senior associates, no big deal, but the words got stuck in his throat as the corners of Eggsy’s mouth turned down in an ugly scowl.

“Yes. It’s quite famous, isn’t it?” Harry said instead. 

“Lawyers,” Eggsy said in the same tone most people would use to describe _taxes_ , or _poop_ , or maybe _pedophiles_. 

“I take it you don’t like them,” Harry said tentatively.

“They’re all the same,” Eggsy spat. “Every single last one is a lying sack of shit.”

“Any other day I’d ask you to elaborate, but I’m late,” Harry said, slightly rattled. The sheer venom in Eggsy's voice was enough to drop an elephant. 

“Right. I’ll see you around,” Eggsy said, suddenly curt, and gave Harry a stiff, awkward pat on the back before turning on his heel. He gave a half-hearted wave over his shoulder and disappeared around the corner without looking back, his shoulders hunching down in misery. Obviously he’d had a terrible experience with lawyers. Probably something traumatizing. Life-altering, even. But Harry couldn’t even begin to guess what it was.

“Fuck,” Harry said, breaking into a sprint for the lifts as he spotted the time on the electronic wall clock in the lobby. He was so fucking late.

He would think about Eggsy later. Right now, he had a shitload of work to tackle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a pretty good idea how this puppy is going to go, right up to the end, which means chapters will be doled out a whole lot faster from now on. Feedback is always much appreciated. Let me know what you think :)


End file.
